Horse-Shoe Robinson: A Tale of the Tory Ascendency

by John Pendleton Kennedy

  CHAPTER XXIX.

  WILLIAMS TAKES A FANCY TO FOREST LIFE.--HORSE SHOE AND JOHN RAMSAYCONTINUE ACTIVE IN THE SERVICE OF BUTLER.--MARY MUSGROVE BECOMES AVALUABLE AUXILIARY.

  Williams had commenced his retreat before the dawn, as much with a viewto accomplish a large portion of his journey before the heat of the day,as to protect himself against the probable pursuit of the rallied forcesof the enemy. His destination was towards the mountains on thenorth-western frontier. The overthrow of Gates had left a large force ofTory militia at the disposal of Cornwallis, who, it was conjectured,would use them to break up every remnant of opposition in this region.It was therefore a matter of great importance to Williams, to conducthis little force into some place of security against the attacks of theroyalists.

  Colonel Elijah Clarke had, ever since the fall of Charleston, beenemployed in keeping together the few scattered Whig families in thatpart of Carolina lying contiguous to the Savannah, with a view to anorganized plan of resistance against the British authorities; and he hadso far accomplished his purpose as to have procured some three or fourhundred men, who had agreed to hold themselves in readiness to strike ablow whenever the occasion offered. These men were to be mustered at anymoment by a preconcerted signal; and, in the meantime, they wereinstructed, by confining themselves to their dwellings, or pursuingtheir ordinary occupations, to keep as much as possible out of the wayof the dominant authorities.

  Clarke resided in Georgia, whence he had fled as soon as the royalistleader, Brown, had taken possession of Augusta; and we have already seenthat a letter from Colonel Pinckney, at Charleston, which Horse ShoeRobinson had been intrusted to deliver, had summoned Arthur Butler tothis frontier to aid in Clarke's enterprise.

  Colonel Isaac Shelby, a resident of Washington county in Virginia, untilthe settlement of the southern line of the State had left him in thedistrict at present known as Sullivan county in Tennessee, had been anefficient auxiliary in Clarke's scheme, and was now ready to summon arespectable number of followers for the support of the war on themountain border. He and Clarke had accidentally arrived at Williams'scamp a day or two before the attack upon Innis, with a view to aconsultation as to the general interests of the meditated campaign; andthey had only tarried to take a part in the engagement from a naturalconcern for the fate of their intended comrade, Butler. Having nofurther motive for remaining with Williams, they were both intent uponreturning to their respective duties, and, accordingly, during theretreat of the following day, they took their leave.

  The vigilance with which these partisans were watched by their enemies,almost forbade the present hope of successful combination. From aconsciousness of the hazard of attempting to concentrate their forces atthis juncture, they had determined still to pursue their separateschemes of annoyance, until a more favorable moment for joint actionshould arise; and, in the interval, to hide themselves as much aspossible in the forest. It was consequently in the hope of preservinghis independence at least, if not of aiding Clarke, that Williams nowmoved with so much despatch to the mountains.

  His course lay towards the head waters of the Fair Forest river, in thepresent region of Spartanburg. This district was inhabited only by a fewhunters, and some scattered Indians of an inoffensive character; itabounded in game, and promised to afford an easy subsistence to menwhose habits were simple, and who were accustomed to rely upon the chasefor support. The second day brought our hardy soldiers into the sojournthey sought. It was a wilderness broken by mountains, and intersected bystreams of surpassing transparency; whilst its elevated position andsouthern latitude conferred upon it a climate that was then, as well asnow, remarked for its delicious temperature in summer, and its exemptionfrom the rigors of winter.

  The spot at which Williams rested was a sequestered valley deep hiddenin the original woods, and watered by the Fair Forest, whose stream, sonear its fountain, scarcely exceeded the dimensions of a little brook.Here he determined to form a camp, to which in times of emergency hemight safely retreat. With a view to render it easy of access as arendezvous, he caused landmarks to be made, by cutting notches on thetrees--or _blazing_ them, in the woodman's phrase--in severaldirections, leading towards the principal highways that penetrated thecountry. The retreat thus established is familiar to the history of thewar, under the name of the Fair Forest camp.

  These arrangements being completed in the course of the first day afterhis arrival, Williams now applied himself to the adoption of measuresfor the safety of Arthur Butler. Amongst the spoils that had fallen intohis hands, after the victory over Innis, was the document containing theproceedings of the court-martial. The perusal of this paper, togetherwith the comments afforded by Robinson, convinced him of the malignityof the persecution which had aimed at the life of the prisoner. Itoccurred to him, therefore, to submit the whole proceeding to LordCornwallis, to whom, he was persuaded, it either had beenmisrepresented, or, most probably, was entirely unknown. He did notdoubt that an appeal to the honorable feelings of that officer, with afull disclosure of the facts, would instantly be followed by an orderthat should put Butler under the protection of the rules of war, andinsure him all the rights that belong to a mere prisoner taken in armsin a lawful quarrel. A spirited remonstrance was accordingly prepared tothis effect. It detailed the circumstances of Butler's case, which wasaccompanied with a copy of the proceedings of the court, and itconcluded with a demand that such measures should be adopted by the headof the army, as comported with the rights of humanity and the laws ofwar; "a course," the writer suggested, "that he did not hesitate tobelieve his lordship would feel belonged both to the honor and duty ofhis station." This paper was consigned to the care of an officer, whowas directed to proceed with it, under a flag of truce, to thehead-quarters of the British commander.

  Soon after this, Robinson apprised Williams that Ramsay and himself haddetermined to venture back towards the Ennoree, to learn something ofthe state of affairs in that quarter, and to apply themselves moreimmediately to the service of Butler. In aid of this design, thesergeant obtained a letter from Williams, the purport of which was toinform the commandant of any post of the loyalists whom it mightconcern, that an application had been made on Butler's behalf toCornwallis, and that the severest retaliation would be exercised uponthe prisoners in Williams's custody, for any violence that might beoffered the American officer. Putting this letter in his pocket, our manof "mickle might," attended by his good and faithful ally, John Ramsay,took his leave of "The Fair Forest" towards noon of the fourth day afterthe battle near Musgrove's mill.

  The second morning after their departure, the two companions had reachedthe Ennoree, not far from the habitation of David Ramsay. It was fairsummer weather, and nature was as gay as in that piping time before theblast of war had blown across her fields. All things, in the course of afew days, seemed to have undergone a sudden change. The countrypresented no signs of strife: no bands of armed men molested thehighways. An occasional husbandman was seen at his plough: the deersprang up from the brushwood and fled into the forest, as if invitingagain the pastime of the chase; and even when the two soldiersencountered a chance wayfarer upon the road, each party passed the otherunquestioned--there was all the seeming quiet of a pacified country. Thetruth was, the war had rolled northwards--and all behind it hadsubmitted since the disastrous fight at Camden. The lusty andhot-brained portions of the population were away with the army; and thenon-combatants only, or those wearied with arms, were all that were tobe seen in this region.

  Horse Shoe, after riding a long time in silence, as these images oftranquillity occupied his thoughts, made a simple remark that spoke avolume of truth in a few homely words.

  "This is an onnatural sort of stillness, John. Men may call this peace,but I call it fear. If there is a poor wretch of a Whig in thisdistrict, it's as good as his life is worth to own himself. How far offmought we be from your father's?"

  The young trooper heaved a deep sigh "I knew you were thinking of mypoor father when you spoke your t
houghts, Horse Shoe. This is a heavyday for him. But he could bear it: he's a man who thinks little ofhardships. There are the helpless women, Galbraith Robinson," hecontinued, as he shook his head with an expression of sorrow that almostbroke into tears. "Getting near home one thinks of them first. My goodand kind mother--God knows how she would bear any heavy accident. I amalways afraid to ask questions in these times about the family, for fearof hearing something bad. And there's little Mary Musgrove over at themill"--

  "You have good reason to be proud of that girl, John Ramsay,"interrupted Robinson. "So speak out, man, and none of your stammering.Hoot!--she told me she was your sweetheart! You hav'n't half the tongueof that wench. Why, sir, if I was a lovable man, haw, haw!--which I'mnot--I'll be cursed if I wouldn't spark that little fusee myself."

  "This fence," said Ramsay, unheeding the sergeant's banter, "belongs toour farm, and perhaps we had better let down the rails and approach thehouse across the field: if the Tories should be there we might find theroad dangerous. This gives us a chance of retreat."

  "That's both scrupulous and wise, John," replied the sergeant. "So downwith the pannel: we will steal upon the good folks, if they are at home,and take them by surprise. But mind you, my lad, see that your pistolsare primed; we mought onawares get into a wasp's nest."

  The fence was lowered, and the horsemen cautiously entered the field.After passing a narrow dell and rising to the crest of the oppositehill, they obtained a position but a short distance in the rear of thehomestead. From this point a melancholy prospect broke upon their sight.The dwelling-house had disappeared, and in its place was a heap only ofsmouldering ashes. A few of the upright frame-posts, scorched black, anda stone chimney with its ample fire-place, were all that remained ofwhat, but a few days before, was the happy abode of the family of abrave and worthy man.

  "My God! my thoughts were running upon this! I feared their spite wouldbreak at last upon my father's head," cried John Ramsay, as he put spursto his horse and galloped up to the ruins. "The savages have done theirworst. But my father and mother where are they?" he exclaimed, as thetears rolled down his cheeks.

  "Take heart, my brave boy!" said Robinson, in the kindliest tones."There's a reckoning to come for all these villanies--and it will gohard with many a Tory yet before this account is settled."

  "I will carry a hot hand into the first house that covers a Tory head,"replied the young trooper, passionately; "this burning shall be paidwith ten like it."

  "All in good time, John," said Robinson coolly. "As for the burning, itis no great matter; a few good neighbors would soon set that to rights,by building your father a better house than the one he has lost.Besides, Congress will not forget a true friend when the war is wellfought out. But it does go against my grain, John Ramsay, to see aparcel of cowardly runaways spitting their malice against women andchildren. The barn, likewise, I see is gone," continued the sergeant,looking towards another pile of the ruins a short distance off. "Thevillains! when there's foul work to be done, they don't go at it likeapprentices. No matter--I have made one observation: the darkest hour isjust before the day, and that's a comfortable old saying."

  By degrees John Ramsay fell into a calmer temper, and now began to castabout as to the course fit to be pursued in their present emergency.About a quarter of a mile distant, two or three negro cabins werevisible, and he could descry a few children near the doors. With aneager haste, therefore, he and the sergeant shaped their course acrossthe field to this spot. When they arrived within fifty paces of thenearest hovel, the door was set ajar, and a rifle, thrust through theaperture, was aimed at the visitors.

  "Stand for your lives!" shouted the well known voice of David Ramsay. Inthe next instant the door was thrown wide open, the weapon cast aside,and the father rushed forward as he exclaimed, "Gracious God, my boy andHorse Shoe Robinson! Welcome, lads; a hundred times more welcome thanwhen I had better shelter to give you! But the good friends of KingGeorge, you see, have been so kind as to give me a call. It is easy totell when they take it in their head to visit a Whig."

  "My mother!" exclaimed John Ramsay.

  "In and see her, boy--she wants comfort from you. But, thank God! shebears this blow better than I thought she could."

  Before this speech was uttered John had disappeared.

  "And how came this mishap to fall upon you, David?" inquired Horse Shoe.

  "I suppose some of your prisoners," replied Ramsay, "must have informedupon Andy and me: for in the retreat of Innis's runaways, a party camethrough my farm. They stayed only long enough to ransack the house, andto steal whatever was worth taking; and then to set fire to the dwellingand all the out-buildings. Both Andy and myself, by good luck, perhaps,were absent, or they would have made us prisoners: so they turned mywife and children out of doors to shift for themselves, and scamperedoff as fast as if Williams was still at their heels. All that was leftfor us was to crowd into this cabin, where, considering all things, weare not so badly off. But things are taking an ill turn for the country,Horse Shoe. We are beaten on all sides."

  "Not so bad, David, as to be past righting yet," replied the sergeant."What have they done with Major Butler?"

  "He was carried, as I learned, up to Blackstock's, the evening of thefight; and yesterday it was reported that a party has taken him back toMusgrove's. I believe he is now kept close prisoner in Allen's house.Christopher Shaw was here two days since, and told us that orders hadcome to occupy the millers dwelling-house for that purpose."

  Horse Shoe had now entered the cabin with David Ramsay, and in thecourse of the hour that followed, during which the family had preparedrefreshment for the travellers, the sergeant had fully canvassed all theparticulars necessary to be known for his future guidance. It wasdetermined that he and John should remain in their present concealmentuntil night, and then endeavor to reach the mill under cover of thedarkness, and open some means of communication with the family of themiller.

  The rest of the day was spent in anxious thought. The situation of theadventurers was one of great personal peril, as they were nowimmediately within the circle of operations of the enemy and likely tobe observed and challenged the first moment they ventured upon theroad.

  The hour of dusk had scarcely arrived before they were again mounted onhorseback. They proceeded cautiously upon the road that led through thewood, until it intersected the highway; and, having attained this point,John Ramsay, who was well acquainted with every avenue through thecountry, now led the way, by a private and scarcely discernible path,into the adjacent forest, and thence, by a tedious and prolonged route,directed his companion to the banks of the Ennoree. This course oftravel took them immediately to the plain on which Innis had beenencamped--the late field of battle. All here was still and desolate. Thesheds and other vestiges of the recent bivouac were yet visible, but noteven the farm-house that had constituted Innis's head-quarters wasreoccupied by its original inhabitants. The bat whirred over the plain,and the owl hooted from the neighboring trees. The air still bore thescent of dead bodies which had either been left exposed, or so meagrelycovered with earth as to taint the breeze with noisome exhalations.

  "There is a great difference, John," said Horse Shoe, who seldom let anoccasion to moralize after his own fashion slip by, "there's a greatdifference between a hot field and a stale one. Your hot field makes asoldier, for there's a sort of a stir in it that sets the blood torunning merrily through a man, and that's what I call pleasure. But wheneverything is festering like the inside of a hospital--or what's nextdoor to it, a grave-yard--it is mighty apt to turn a dragoon's stomachand make a preacher of him. This here dew falls to-night like frost, andchills me to the heart, which it wouldn't do if it didn't freshen up thesmell of dead men. And there's the hogs, busy as so many sextons amongInnis's Tories: you may hear them grunt over their suppers. Well, thereis one man among them that I'll make bold to say these swine hav'n't gotthe stomach to touch--that's Hugh Habershaw: he sleeps in the mud inyonder fence-corner."

 
; "If you had done nothing else in the fight, Horse Shoe, but cleave thatfellow's skull," said Ramsay, "the ride we took would have been wellpaid for--it was worth the trouble."

  "And the rapscallionly fellow to think," added Horse Shoe, "that I was agoing to save him from the devil's clutches, when I had a broadsword inmy hand, and his bald, greasy pate in reach. His brain had nothing in itbut deceit and lies, and all sorts of cruel thoughts, enough to poisonthe air when I let them out. I have made an observation, John, all mylife on them foul-mouthed, swilling braggers--that when there's so muchcunning and blood-thirstiness, there's no room for a thimbleful ofcourage: their heart's in their belly, which is as much as to signifythat the man's a most beastly coward. But now, it is my opinion that wehad best choose a spot along upon the river here, and leave our horses.I think we can manoeuvre better on foot: the miller's house is shortof two miles, and we mought be noticed if we were to go nearer onhorseback."

  This proposal was adopted, and the two friends, when they had ridden ashort distance below the battle ground, halted in a thicket, where theyfastened their horses, and proceeded towards the mill on foot. Afterfollowing the course of the stream for near half an hour, theyperceived, at a distance, a light glimmering through the window of AllenMusgrove's dwelling. This induced a second pause in their march, whenRamsay suggested the propriety of his advancing alone to reconnoitre thehouse, and attempting to gain some speech with the inmates. Heaccordingly left the sergeant to amuse himself with his own thoughts.

  Horse Shoe took his seat beneath a sycamore, where he waited a long timein anxious expectation of the return of his comrade. Growing uneasy, atlast, at John's delay, he arose, and stole cautiously forward until hereached the mill, where he posted himself in a position from which hewas able to see and hear what was going on at the miller's house. Theporch was occupied by three or four persons, whose conversation, as itcame to the sergeant's ear, proved them to be strangers to the family;and a ray of light from a taper within, after a while, made this moremanifest, by revealing the scarlet uniform of the enemy. Horse Shoe wasthus confirmed in the truth of the report that Butler had been broughtto this place under a military escort. With this conviction he returnedto the sycamore, where he again sat down to wait for the coming of hiscompanion.

  It was after ten o'clock, and the sergeant was casting over in histhoughts the long absence of John, when his attention was aroused by thesound of footsteps, and the next instant John Ramsay and Mary Musgrovestood beside him.

  "What kept you till this time of night?" was the sergeant's accost.

  "Softly, man, I have news for you," replied Ramsay. "Here is Maryherself."

  "And so she is, indeed!" exclaimed the sergeant, at the same timeshaking her hand, "this is my petticoat-sodger; how goes it with you,girl?"

  "I have only a moment to spare," replied the maiden cheerfully, "and itis the greatest of good luck that I thought of coming out; for John gaveme a signal, which I was stupid enough not to understand at first. But,after a while, I thought it could be no one but John Ramsay; and that,partly, because I expected he would be coming into the neighborhood eversince I heard of his being at his father's, after the ensign was made aprisoner."

  "I went," said John Ramsay, "to the further side of the house, where Iset to whistling an old-fashioned tune that Mary was acquaintedwith--walking away all the time in an opposite direction--as if therewas nothing meant--"

  "And I knew the tune, Mr. Horse Shoe," interrupted Mary, eagerly, "itwas Maggie Lauder. John practised that trick once before to show me howto find my way to him. Upon that, I made an excuse to leave the room,and slipped out through the garden--and then I followed the whistling,as folks say they follow a jack-o'-lantern."

  "And so, by a countermarch," continued the young dragoon, "we came roundthe meadow and through the woods, here."

  "Now that you've got here at last," said Horse Shoe, "tell me the news."

  "Major Butler is in the house," said Mary and John, both speaking atonce. "He was brought there yesterday from Blackstock's," continued themaiden. "Orders came from somebody that he was to be kept at our house,until they had fixed upon what was to be done with him. Colonel Inniswas too ill to think of such matters, and has been carried out of theneighborhood--and it is thought he will die."

  "How many men are there to guard the prisoner?" asked the sergeant.

  "There are more than twenty, with a lieutenant from Ninety-Six, who hasthe charge of them."

  "And how does the major bear his troubles?"

  "He seems to be heavy at heart," replied the maiden. "But that may bebecause he is away from his friends. Though my father, who is a goodjudge of such things, says he suffers tribulation like a Christian. Heasked me privately, if I had heard anything of you, Mr. Robinson: andwhen I told him what folks said about your being with the people thatbeat Colonel Innis, he smiled, and said if any man could get him free,it was Horse Shoe Robinson."

  "Do they allow you to see him often?" inquired the sergeant.

  "I have seen him only two or three times since he came to the house,"answered the maiden. "But the officer that has charge of him is notcontrary or ill-natured, and makes no objection to my carrying him hismeals--though I am obliged to pretend to know less about Major Butlerthan I do, for fear they might be jealous of my talking to him."

  "You can give him a letter?"

  "I think I can contrive it," replied the maiden.

  "Then give him this, my good girl," said Robinson, taking Williams'sletter from his pocket and putting it in Mary's hand. "It is a piece ofwriting he can use whenever he is much pressed. It may save him fromharm. Now, I want you to do something more. You must find a chance justto whisper in his ear that Horse Shoe Robinson and John Ramsay are inthe neighborhood. Tell him, likewise, that Colonel Williams has sent amessenger to Lord Cornwallis to lay his case before that officer, and toget some order for his better treatment. That the doings of thatrascally court-martial have been sent by the messenger, hoping that LordCornwallis, if he is a brave and a Christian man--as they say heis--will stop this onmerciful persecution of the major--which has nocause for it under heaven. Will you remember all this?"

  "I'll try, sir," responded Mary; "and besides I will tell it to myfather, who has more chance of speaking to Major Butler than I have."

  "Now," said Horse Shoe, "we will be here again to-morrow night, alittle earlier than this; you must meet us here. And say to the major,if he has any message for us, he may send it by you. But be cautious,Mary, how you are seen talking with the prisoner. If they suspect you itwill spoil all."

  "Trust to me," said the girl; "I warrant I have learned by this time howto behave myself amongst these red-coats."

  "There, John," continued Horse Shoe, "I have said all I want to say, andas you, I have no doubt, have got a good deal to tell the girl, it isbut fair that you should have your chance. So, do you walk back with heras far as the mill, and I'll wait here for you. But don't forgetyourself by overstaying your furlough."

  "I must get home as fast as possible," said Mary; "they will be lookingfor me."

  "Away, John Ramsay--away," added Horse Shoe; "and have your eyes aboutyou, man."

  With this command John Ramsay and the miller's daughter hastilywithdrew, and were soon out of the sergeant's hearing.

  After an interval, which doubtless seemed short to the gallant dragoon,he returned to his comrade, and the two set out rapidly in quest oftheir horses; and once more having got into their saddles, they retracedtheir steps at a brisk speed to Ramsay's cabin.